


"Flapjacks"

by SirKai



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, Cultural Appropriation, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Robots In Disguise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirKai/pseuds/SirKai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ironhide is determined to make sure that, for once, Prowl can enjoy a relaxed morning after sleeping in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Flapjacks"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Deers).



> This fic is totally goofy at its core, so I'm not too worried about how well it meshes with the science of the continuity (even that in and of itself is more than a little outlandish). I suppose it mostly fits somewhere around Robots in Disguise after the Death of Optimus Prime issue (hence the description of the fauna growing on the planet), but there's no specific space allotted for this to happen.
> 
> And of course, this piece goes out to the absolutely incredible Deers! ( http://deersu.tumblr.com/ ) It's a bit of culmination of all the silly/gay theorycrafting that resulted from watching a season of a certain detective show haha.

“Ironhide!” Prowl called out. He shot up and scanned his optics around the room, as if it couldn’t be trusted. He squinted at the sunlight creeping through the blinds of his bedroom window, then squinted harder at the blank display on his slab monitor. “Ironhide, did you tamper with my habitation slab!?”

Several clanking footsteps later, the bulky red autobot appeared in the suite doorway. “Well good mornin’ to you too,” Ironhide said with a smirk.

“Did you disable the alarm on my slab!?”

“I sure did. I figured you could do with a little sleepin’ in.”

“I have to be awake at certain times, Ironhide! I’ve optimized my schedule for a reason!”

“Well it don’t hurt to relax and defrag a little every now and then, does it?” Ironhide asked, leaning against the doorway.

Prowl shook his head. “ _That doesn’t even make sense…_ ”

“Oh!” The red autobot bolted upright and started to jet off back down the hallway-- his head was only visible long enough for him to finish speaking. “I almost forgot somethin’. Be right back!” The clanking footsteps slowly dissipated, and were replaced by hollering that rang throughout the apartment. “And you stay right there! I mean it!”

Then there was the faint sound of rummaging in what Prowl deduced to be the distillery. He sighed, knowing there would likely be a great deal of cleaning and reorganization due once Ironhide had the run of the place to concoct Primus-knows-what. But the officer heeded Ironhide’s order and kept himself slab-ridden. Scowling, but obedient.

A few minutes later, a returning series of clanking footsteps preceded Ironhide standing in the doorway, this time holding a wide tray in both hands.

Prowl’s unwelcome expression went unchanged. “What in the name of Nova Prime _is that?_ ” He pointed meekly at the smoking flat disc resting on the tray. The hue on it was a worryingly discolored purple, and the smell that crept into the room was faintly familiar of energon.

“This, ma’ dear Officer Prowl,” Ironhide started. He held up the tray proudly as if to display the _thing_ to a crowded audience. “Is what I like to call an Energon Flapjack.”

“A flapjack,” Prowl repeated with minimal inflection.

“Or pancake! If you prefer.”

Prowl’s optics narrowed into slits. “Did you appropriate this from the humans?”

“Yup!”

“You do remember that they _killed you_ , right?”

“I uh, don’t actually,” the red Autobot replied, following it up with a meek chuckle and a weakening grin. He strolled to the side of Prowl’s habitation slab and propped up the tray over his waist. 

The officer resisted the urge to groan aloud.

"Oh! And these are for ya too." Ironhide offered a darkly plated knife with a serrated edge and another small weapon-like tool that resembled a trident. 

Prowl questioned whether either was intended for culinary use. 

"This is, well, used to cut it into pieces obviously," Ironhide said, motioning the knife in his hand. Then he noted the other instrument. "And this one here is for stabbin' it to help ya eat, so ya don't have to get yer hands all messy."

Prowl plucked the knife first, studying its weight and balance in his hand. He first set about sawing up the supposed food item into evenly sized chunks. He frowned at the tough density of the jelly-like substance.

Pausing to consider the outcomes (none of them extreme enough to bother combating Ironside's enthusiasm), Prowl peered over the cuts of energon before gouging one with the pronged utensil and stuffing it in his mouth. 

The texture in his mouth felt soft and mushy, and seemed to almost dissolve after a few moments of jostling and grinding between his dental plates. The taste was familiar, but with a tinge of what Prowl could only identify as 'smoky'. At least it was easy enough to swallow.

"So, what do ya think?"

"...it hasn’t impaired any of my operating functions yet, so far as I can tell," Prowl said, hovering the stabbing instrument over another piece of the energon. 

"Hah, a compliment comin' from you; I knew you'd like it!"

Prowl didn't deem it appropriate to argue Ironhide's assessment, no matter how wrong it was. Instead, he settled into a rhythm of processing the compound pieces in his mouth and swallowing them. The slab-ridden autobot knew the nooks and crevices of his mouth and throat would demand a thorough cleaning after this.

Ironhide, still posting himself next to Prowl's slab, eventually interjected. “Now you better hurry up and finish eating. Ya can’t spend too long mopin’ on yer slab today.”

“Don’t tell me that was an implication that you’ve arranged some sort of activity list for me today,” Prowl said, glaring over the rims of his spectacles. “ _And I’m not moping…_ "

Ironhide arched his brow and opened his mouth, no doubt preparing to voice some kind of objection.

“ _Us_ , sorry,” Prowl interrupted. "An activity list for _us_." He returned to begrudgingly chewing his energon flapjacks, mentally noting that his was a race not even engineered to chew for sustenance. 

He continued to eat in silence as Ironhide stood over him expectantly. The red autobot’s optic lids lowered a little as he leaned in with a raised eyebrow. “...ain’t ya gonna ask what I got planned?”

Prowl replied with a drooping glare from behind half-lidded optics.

“Well, I was thinking we could go fauna carvin’,” Ironhide answered. He sat down on the edge of the slab with a perkier expression.

“...fauna carving.” The response was flat and monotone.

“Yeah. You know all them big plants that’ve been sproutin’ up outside the city? Well, I’ve seen some cultures-”

“You mean humans.” Prowl finished chewing on the final bite of the supposed ‘flapjack.’

Ironhide ignored the interruption and started talking with his hands to emphasize vicious sawing motions. “They actually cut them bushes up into pretty little shapes.”

“You expect me to be dragged into the wilderness to go and chop up plants?”

“Yeah, never hurts to flex your artistic skills a bit.”

“Since when do you have any _artistic skills?_ ”

“Since- ...well, it’s actually pretty recent, but I’m workin’ on it!”

“Really?" Prowl cocked his brow up. "You’ve been practicing the arts?”

“Yessir!” Ironhide said proudly. He scooted in a bit closer to Prowl as he talked. “In fact a bit later I was thinking I could recite some of my-”

“Please don’t say poetry-”

“-poetry-”

“...” Ironhide blinked his optics, and silently crossed ‘poetry reading’ off of his mental checklist.

“You’re serious?”

"Well I was thinking you could critique it! You know, let me know what does and don't work."

Prowl leaned back and folded his arms. “Somehow I doubt I have the qualifications for that.”

Ironhide scooted closer to Prowl and smirked at him. “And I never thought I’d have a touch for human cuisine, but life surprises you sometimes.” He stood back up and extended his hand to Prowl. “Come on now.”

There were more problems with Ironhide’s claims than Prowl could count in a month. Though instead of resorting to any number of lectures, Prowl sighed with a raise of his brow, unfolded his arms, and took Ironhide’s hand. “Whatever you say.”


End file.
